Ferguson said, “He’ll not make trouble. He wouldn’t dare!”

“No? And why do you think he keeps asking about the cabin? He’s biding his time. His sort have a lot of patience.”

“The captain’d not stand for any more trouble!” Ferguson showed his agitation in the quick movements of his hands. “I’ve heard him telling Mr Vibart about taking care of the men. About how he wants them treated.”

Allday sighed. “You see? You’re even telling me what you’ve heard. If you want to stay safe you’d better keep what you know to yourself.”

Ferguson stared at him. “You don’t have to tell me!” He tightened his mouth with sudden anger. “You’re just like the others. You’re jealous because of my job!”

Allday turned away. “Suit yourself.”

He waited until he heard Ferguson moving aft again. Then he turned to watch as Onslow stepped from beside the mainmast to stop his passing. He saw Onslow grinning and patting Ferguson on the shoulder.

Pochin’s hard voice interrupted his thoughts. “What d’you reckon? D’you think Onslow is right?” He sounded worried. “If there is more trouble aboard this ship we’ll all be in it. We’ll have to take sides!”

Allday replied flatly, “You’d be a fool to pay heed to that one!” He tried to put some value to his words. “Anyway, the captain’ll make short work of him if he tries anything!”

Pochin nodded doubtfully. “Maybe. Dyin’ under a French broadside is one thing, but I’ll not cough out blood for ’im or the buggers like Onslow!”

The pipes shrilled again, and the men stirred themselves back to work.

Allday kept his eyes down to his task as Quintal, the boatswain, and Josling, one of his mates, walked forward to inspect the forecastle. He heard Josling say, “I see that the old Cassius was signalling just now, Mr Quintal?”

Quintal replied in his deep voice, “Aye, lad. We’ll be hauling off shortly to our own little patrol area. It’ll be a long job, I wouldn’t wonder, so see that you keep the hands busy. There’s nothing worse for discipline than too much free time.” The rest of his comments were lost to Allday as the two men moved up towards the bowsprit, but he had heard enough.

Phalarope was to be alone again, and out of sight of the flag-ship. The boatswain was right. With the heat and the dull monotony of an empty patrol, Onslow would find a good breeding ground for more trouble if he could.

He looked sideways at his silent companions, each man apparently engrossed in his own task, yet each no doubt thinking of that green patch of land which they had just left behind.

No ordinary seaman had set foot ashore. Some of the crew had not left a deck for years. It was hardly surprising that men like Onslow could find a ready audience.

He shaded his eyes and stared towards the horizon. Already the distant two-decker seemed smaller, her hull lost in the heat haze below the clear sky. Her sails had merged into one shining pyramid, and as he watched she appeared to sink lower in the glittering sea. Another hour and she would have vanished altogether. After that, he thought coldly, you could trust no man.